


You Better Not Be Dead.

by thornebarker



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: (steve did), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Slow Burn, Tony centric, basically the stony reunion we deserved from infinity war, damn you tony you shouldve just called him, slightly OOC, so much tension between these two, somebody give tony stark a fucking hug, they're breaking each other's hearts (and my own)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 08:21:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14733395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thornebarker/pseuds/thornebarker
Summary: Just when Tony is about to call it quits, click the little red 'end' button and smash the stupid flip phone into a billion pieces and then go save the damn world by himself- somebody answers. He's met with silence on the line. Tony scrambles to think of something appropriate to say."I hate this flip phone, Steve," Tony blurts, instead of anything good. He waits for a response he's not sure he'll get.Eventually, though, "is that why you never called? The phone?":: AU where Tony calls Steve. [ Infinity War spoilers ]





	You Better Not Be Dead.

**Author's Note:**

> hi, I wrote this after seeing infinity war to mend my broken stony heart. hope it helps yours too <3

Tony can’t believe he’s about to have this conversation on a flip phone.

He turns the thing over and over in his palm, weighing the stupid little device while he tries to work himself up to it. There’s only one number programmed on it, all he has to do is tap some buttons and, you know, call the guy. He’s Tony fucking Stark, he’s done harder things in his sleep. If anybody can do this, it’s him.

Tony turns around to face Bruce and the two sorcerers. “I can’t do it,” he says. “We’re not really on...speaking terms.”

Doctor Stephen Strange rubs a hand over his face but says nothing- probably at a loss for words. Bruce, much more erratic, stumbles up to Tony and gets in his space, wild eyed with worry. “Tony, listen to me. It doesn’t matter if you’re not on ‘speaking terms’, okay? What's wrong with you? This is the fate of the universe we’re talking about.” Banner grips the man’s shoulders, hard, and gives him a little shake. “So man up, and work this out like adults so we don’t all die a horrible death.”

What Tony realizes is that Bruce has a point, no matter how terribly he delivers it. If something awful happened because him and Steve kept the Avenger’s apart, Tony genuinely doesn’t know how he’d live with himself from then on. Whatever history they have can’t stand in the way, and Stark understands that on a logical level, but it’s a lot harder to ignore the painful little stab he gets in his heart whenever Steve’s name is brought up.

That could just be the arc reactor, actually.

“Okay, I got it, Bruce, thanks,” Tony says, shrugging out of his friends hold and taking a couple steps back. He can do this, he can work things out. They might have ended on less than ideal terms, yes, but Tony used to know how to talk to Steve. He can do it again. He reopens the phone and forces himself to not hesitate as he clicks on Steve Roger’s contact.

Tony moves the phone up to his ear and listens to the first slow, rolling ring, and very excellently ignores the same anxious gnawing in his gut.

The second ring. He glances over at Bruce and Wong and Stephen and sends them a wink, loosens the tension he wasn’t aware he was keeping in his shoulders. It’s unlikely that anybody buys his act, but they don’t say anything.

Third ring. _Come on, Cap. Answer. It’s the fate of life as we know it, you star spangled asshole_ , he thinks.

Just when Tony is about to call it quits, click the little red button, and smash his stupid flip phone into a billion pieces and then go save the damn world by himself, somebody answers and the dial tone stops playing. He’s met with silence on the other end. Tony’s throat suddenly feels very dry and he can’t possibly think of any words to say. Hello? How are you? Is the world in ruins wherever you are, too? He gives it his best shot.

“I hate this flip phone, Steve,” Tony says instead of anything good. He looks down at the marbled floor and waits for a response he's not sure he'll get.

Eventually though, “is that why you never called? The phone?”

Steve’s voice is rough and he doesn’t sound all that happy, but Tony immediately releases the breath he was holding. He hasn’t hung up yet, that’s a good sign. He can work with this.

“Wasn’t so sure you’d answer, Cap.”

“It’s just Steve, Tony. And we both know that’s not the real reason.”

“You never called, either,” Stark says, because he's a terrible person and Steve just brings the fight out of him and maybe he’s still hurt, okay?

From several feet away, Banner starts making frantic _‘stop being an asshole, Tony’_ movements. “Ask him for help, damnit!” Bruce hisses.

There’s a long sigh from the other side of the line. Tony can just picture Steve pinching the bridge of his nose, taking a couple breaths until the frustrated wrinkle between his brows smoothen out. He's definitely gotten better at not rising to Tony’s baits.

“Why did you call?” Steve asks. “Because I know it’s not just to catch up, or apologize.”

Tony is offended, though it’s absolutely true. “How do you know I'm not calling to apologize?”

A pause. “Are you?”

Tony bites back a ‘you first’. He’s really not in the mood- he hasn't been for years, hence the whole not calling. “Steve, listen...I need help.”

Silence. “What do you need help with?”

A flood of something warm like hope trickles through Tony’s veins. After all they've been through, all the hell and the pain, Steve is still there for him, at just one belated phone call. Tony clears his throat of the lump that threatens to build there. “Well technically it's not just me who needs help, but more every living being in the universe.”

“What are you talking about, Tony? What's going on?” Steve’s voice is laced with a tinge of panic.

“Banner’s just come, talking about some guy named Thanos. A dick, I'm sure, but somebody not to be messed with. He’s after all the infinity stones and wants to wipe out half of all life. You in?” Tony manages to both say that all in one breath and sound fraudly calm about the whole ordeal.

“What? Tony-” another weary sigh. “What's your plan here.”

“Haven't given it much thought yet, seeing as I myself just found out about this ten minutes ago. So far I'm thinking attack anything suspicious that comes from outer space? I really-”

There's a low, sudden rumbling in the building. Tony stops, places a hand over the phones speaker and listens. He looks over at Doctor Strange.

“Say, doc, you wouldn't be happening to be moving your hair right now, would you?” Tony cautiously asks.

The man's eyes flicker up. “Uh, no, not at the moment.”

Muffled screams erupt from outside the glass doors. People running across the sidewalks, car crashes, smoke. Jesus, it’s already started.

Tony removes his hand. “Looks like I have to go, Cap. Got some suspicious activity outside that may or may not be from space. We're going to go fight it- kick it's ass. It was nice catching up with you.”

For the split second before Tony hangs up, he hears Steve yelling, “Tony, no, don’t you dare. You better not die, you stupid-” and then Stark hits end before he can finish that sentence.

It’s better this way, without goodbyes.

They’re both used to it.

 

-

 

Tony Stark’s not dead, but he wishes he were.

Thanos came. He conquered. Tony and The Guardians and Spider-Man and Strange and Hulk and everybody with a will put all they had in the fight, and it was to no avail- they never stood a chance. Tony’s heart has never sunk lower than when he fought tooth and nail only to spill one drop of Thanos’s blood. He has sure he was a goner when the man hurled the chunks of a foreign planet’s moon at him. The worst feeling that has ever festered inside of his chest cavity was when they were so close, just one more pull and the gauntlet would’ve been theirs, and then in just another instance, that ember of hope was crushed, and it sputtered to death at Tony’s feet. As did his friends, his allies. He stood in the ashes of their corps and watched them burn and asked God why he wasn’t smoldering with them.

Tony wants to be dead. That is his surrender, the first time he’s ever called enough, and no one’s even around to acknowledge his defeat.

Titan. He sits on the planet’s surface and looks into a sky that isn’t his and feels nothing. He feels nothing and everything at the same time and the uncomfortable wetness that runs down his cheeks. His chest is heaving and he can’t breathe. Tony reaches up at his mask and scratches uselessly at the surface to take it off, until his suit takes pity on him and unlatches the helmet. The air is painfully fresh and he tries to stop breathing with his mouth to avoid inhaling the remnants of his friends. Is he the last human in the universe? Tony feels so, so small.

He should’ve never went out that morning with Pepper. He should have never gotten Peter Parker involved. He shouldn’t have poked a beast he couldn't contain, he shouldn't have pushed Steve away. He should have never became Iron Man.

He should’ve said goodbye while he still could. The signal on other planets isn’t great, and he doubts a call will go through here.

Tony looks up into a sky that isn’t his for hours, until he gets sick of the view, and then he stands up on weak legs, and brushes the dirt off of himself.

 

-

 

 Earth is more or less how Tony expected it to be. He hadn’t really given it much thought- he was very careful not to.

He doesn’t bother looking for Pepper yet- which he's aware makes him even more a horrible person than he already is- because he needs to cling onto the last shred of sanity he has if he wants even just a chance of making things right, and knowing what her fate was will send him on a downward spiral he’ll never be able to get out of. So he doesn’t look.

He does make a call, though. He’s not really expecting anything from it, is treading lightly as to avoid crossing over into the dangerous threshold of hope. It happens to be the only number he has memorized, and maybe the only voice Tony can handle hearing, or not. Either way.

Rhodey picks up on the first ring.

“Tony, oh my god. Please tell me it’s you.”

“It’s me, Rhodey. It’s Tony.”

Rhodey makes a noise, halfway between a sigh of relief and choking. “Jesus, man. Where have you been?”

“I really, really can’t say right now.”

“Why not?” “Because if I think about it for one more second I’m going to kill myself. I’m going to find the nearest jagged object and slit my throat with it. Or maybe just walk into the Atlantic, either one.”

“...Are you in New York?”

“What’s left of it.” To be specific, Tony stands in front of what used to be Avenger’s Tower. He doesn’t know if he was expecting anything, but he’s still disappointed. He kicks a stone on the ground and it skips across the pavement. It's so very quiet. New York is finally asleep.

“Can you make it to Wakanda? Or should I go to you?”

“Wakanda? What are you doing there?”

“That’s where they brought the fight, Tony. Thousands of them, man. God, I just-”

“Please stop,” Tony says quietly. Rhodey does.

“I can make it there,” Tony says after a minute. “What’s it like?”

“Not in good shape, but it's good enough. Most of the guys ended up here, at the beginning of the fight at least. Thor is in-”

“Thor’s alive?” Tony asks incredulously.

“He is. Should I...should I tell you who else is, too?” What Rhodey really means to ask is _should I tell you who died, or would you rather find out yourself?_

“No, you can tell me when I get there.”

“Tony,” Rhodey warns, “don’t do anything stupid before you see everything, alright? This isn’t the end.”

Tony chews thoughtfully on his lip. Damn right it isn’t. “I’ll see you soon, Rhodey.” He hangs up.

 

-

 

This is not a Wakanda he wished to see.

Iron Man touches down lightly, with only a small dust cloud rising up at his feet. The landscape is wide and stripped, and Tony can see in his mind’s eye the thousands of bodies that must have been littered here before they turned to ash. He pushes the image aside and stomps across the dirt, marching towards the sleek building overlooking the cliff. It taunts him, it’s solid structure in the middle of wide, vast nothingness. He turns on the jets and flies past it all.

Rhodey is just small speck waiting on the steps of the building from Tony’s position, but a smile still stretches across his face when he sees him. The man waves high and slow at him.

Tony descends, and before he’s even gotten a chance to take the helmet off he's enveloped in strong arms. Tony falls into the embrace and lets himself be held. If it wasn't for his friend and the suit psychically keeping his body upright, Tony’s sure he'd have fallen.

“I can't believe you're alive,” Tony says, completely serious. No quips, no jokes to lighten the mood. “I thought I was the only human left in the Universe.”

“We’re here man, we’re in this together.”

Rhodey steps back and let's Stark remove his helmet. It slides back smoothly and Tony’s tired, weary face is revealed. He looks fucking terrible. His skin is grey and his eyes are bloodshot and he has the expression of a man who just lost everything. Rhodey thinks it's like looking in a mirror.

“Where's the Black Panther? I thought he'd be at least a little defensive of some giant metal man flying out of the sky and landing in his country.”

“T’Challa is dead.” Rhodey says, quick, like ripping off a bandaid. He doesn't elaborate.

Tony nods solemnly. Adds yet another name to his roster of people to avenge. “A shame,” he says. “Show me inside.”

Rhodey attempts a smile for him. “Tony,” he says, “before I do, I need you to do something for me. Try and look at this from a positive standpoint, all right?”

Tony blanches. “Sorry, what?”

“Thor’s alive. I’m alive. There are others in there, too. Please don’t forget about them, and just get lost in grief. We have to keep it together man, alright? If not us, then who will?”

There’s a hard lump in Stark’s throat. He doesn’t want to talk about this. “I’m not a child, Rhodey.”

“No, you’re a man who just lost his family,” Rhodey levels. “And you’re mother fucking Iron Man. We need you right now.”

Tony wonders just how many people are still left if his best friend thinks it’s this necessary to coddle him. One? Two? Jesus. “I’m here. Let me see them.”

Rhodey looks him over once, but starts towards the doors with Tony close on his tail. The glass opens for them, and they're immediately greeted with disaster. The once immaculate marble floors are cracked and littered with debris, pillar columns are split, even completely fallen. Tony coughs and fans away some of the uplifted dust out of his face.

“Jesus, what happened here?”

“The fight...migrated,” Rhodey says, and leads away from the mess and deeper into the palace. Tony sidesteps a pile of glass shards and doesn't think about what that implies.

They find themselves down a long, spacious hallway some time later, when Rhodey mutters, “they should be around here somewhere. At least, they were when I left.”

Tony stops in his place. “How long were you gone?”

“About an hour, man. I was looking for others.”

“...what if they left?”

Rhodey turns and looks at him as if Tony grew a second head, takes in the paleness of his face with caution. “What the hell you mean ‘what if they left’? Why would they do that?”

Tony closes his eyes, tries to control his breathing. The edge of his vision is beginning to go dark, and he grabs at his chest. It's useless through the suit- just metal clawing desperately at metal. He doubles over.

Rhodey is suddenly there, hands waving around nervously. “Tony? Talk to me, are you having a panic attack?”

Stark shuts his eyes. When will this day end? “I'm- I’m fine. I’m fine, give me a second.” Dear God, he just wants this to end.

Rhodey’s calloused palm migrates to the back of his friend's neck, massaging the skin there. “Breathe, man.” Tony laughs- a broken, little self deprecated thing, “I’m trying, but I think my lungs have stopped working and also, I got _stabbed_ today, so-”

“Man of Iron! You’ve been stabbed?”

Tony stands up so fast he thinks for a second he's got whiplash, but then the world stops spinning and there’s _Thor_ , standing in the middle of the corridor with a worried look on his face.

“It's a, uh…” Tony clears his throat, can't keep his eyes off the Asgardian. “It's a long story.”

Thor’s face splits into a grin, and he steps forward and wraps Tony is his arms, holding him tight. Tony hugs him back, and thanks God for the suit, or else he might have been squished.

“It is very good to see you well and alive, Stark. It would've been a tremendous loss for Earth had you perished,” Thor says.

Tony smiles. “It's good to see you too, Thor. Didn't think there'd be anybody I knew left.”

Thor pulls back, looking down on him with a puzzled expression. “What do you mean? Many of our friends have survived.”

Tony doesn't allow himself to hope, but he can't help from asking, “all of them?”

The God’s face falls. “No...not everybody. Many have fallen. But, many of our comrades are here now. Shall we see them?”

Tony nods vigorously enough that his hair flops down in front of his eyes. “Yes, please, go, lead the way.”

Thor smiles at him, and Tony notices the dull look in them. He wonders who he lost.

Thor guides them down several halls that he and Rhodey would never be able to work their way out of, until eventually they end up in the ruins of what must've been a working lab. Thor and Rhodey enter first, leaving Stark to walk in cautiously. He slowly drags his eyes off the tiled ground and up- and the air is immediately knocked out of his lungs.

Nat smiles at him. “Now there's a face I'd never thought I'd see again.”

“By the look on his, I'm betting he didn't expect us either,” Bruce chuckles. His eyes are shining.

Tony doesn't bother with a witty response, just grabs the two by their shirts and stumbles into them, colliding in a half hug, half if-you-let-me-go-I'm-going-to-collapse hold.

Natasha buries her face in the crook of Tony's exposed neck, and Tony’s fingers comb through both her and Bruce’s hair, soothing the two of them and himself.

“Thank God.” Bruce mutters.

Tony pulls back far enough to look them in the eyes. “Vision? Wanda?”

Natasha shakes her head.

Tony swallows thickly. “What about...what about Sam, and Clint.”

“We haven't seen Sam since the fight, and we just don't know about Clint. Haven't heard anything from him.”

Tony covers his face with his metal hand. Natasha tugs gently at it.

“Tony…”

“I can't.”

“Tony, listen.”

“I’m listening.”

“Steve-”

“He's dead, right?” Tony snaps. Natasha jerks back, removing her hand. “He’s dead. So is Peter. And probably Pepper. And exactly half of everybody we know, so if you could all stop walking on eggshells around me, and-and just tell me he's gone, too, alright? I'm not some... _I'm not going to crack if you tell me that Steve’s dead._ We have work to do, and we can't start if we don't get everything out now.”

Natasha let's him catch his breath without saying anything. Bruce, Thor, and Rhodey do the same and watch him warily, though Thor does flex his fingers like he wants to reach out.

“You okay?” Nat asks softly.

Tony groans. His suit feels too constricting. He takes a deep breath, and as he opens his mouth to say, _‘of course, I always am’_ , a soft, familiar voice filters through to his ears.

“Tony?”

He turns, even though he’s confident it's just his weak heart playing cruel tricks on him. Standing in the doorway, in all his scruffed up glory, is Steve Rogers with an unreadable expression on his face.

Tony can only blink in a dazed stupor, until he faces Rhodey and Nat and the others. “You...why did nobody tell me?”

Rhodey chuckles. “We tried to, but you kept interrupting.”

A hand falls on Tony’s shoulder, and Tony knows it's irrational but he swears he can feel the warmth radiating through the suit. He lets himself be spun around and comes face to face with the man he hasn't seen in years. To a face he was scared he'd never see again. Steve’s eyes are cold blue and moist.

“You grew a beard,” Tony mutters.

Steve nods. “Yeah, yeah, I did. I...like your new suit.”

“That right?” Tony clears his throat, let's his eyes wander to the mans chest. “I like yours too. The ripped out star is very...edgy.”

Steve chokes on a laugh- and it's a watery, sharp thing- before he slides his hand up to Tony’s neck and pulls and Tony impulsively plants his hands on the Cap’s sides and they're just standing there, foreheads touching, breathing shallowly. They can feel each other's soft puffs of air against their lips, and yet it's not close enough. Tony can sense the last shreds of his sanity slipping through his fingers like grains of sand and he chases after it relentlessly, though he knows it's a lost cause.

“You're not dead,” Steve nearly chokes out.

“You did tell me not to die. Direct orders,” Tony recalls.

“Right, and then you hung up before I could finish.” Steve chuckles wryly.

“I should've called sooner.”

“No, Tony, I should have. I’m sorry.”

“Me too, Steve.”

Steve shuts his eyes, doesn't notice their friends slink out of the room. “I didn't think you were going to make it. What are the odds?”

“Around fifty-fifty.”

A soft exhale of laughter. “Bucky’s gone. Sam. Wanda. Vision.” Steve's starting to lose it, too. He can hear it in his voice. He won't last much longer.

“Peter.” Tony rubs his hands up and down the fabric, reassuring himself of the firm body beneath his fingers. “But you're here.”

“We both are.”

“My god, I can't believe you're alive.” And that breathy proclamation is what let's the other know Tony’s at the end, too. That he can't hold it in any longer.

Steve opens his eyes, and he sees Tony Stark honestly for what might be the first time. A man who's fought for everything in his life and had it ripped away from him time and time again. One who's lost more times than he's won, but a man who still got up, bloody and beaten. Somebody who got played, hurt, betrayed by the few he trusted, yet still he believed in them. A tired, broken soul. Steve sees himself in Tony Stark. Sees it in the worn features and the tension in his shoulders and the fight in his words and the relief in his eyes. Tony Stark battled for this Universe- this small, vulnerable boy. And Steve won't ever be able to thank him enough, or forgive himself for letting it happen in the first place.

Steve encloses Tony tight in his arms and doesn't worry about hurting him for the moment- just clutches at him as desperately as Tony clings back. Runs calloused fingers through dark locks and keeps a grip on the one thing the world let him keep for now- because like hell is he going to let this one disappear too. They comfort each other with their grief and sorrow and shared burning desire to avenge, but that'll have to wait until they can bring it upon themselves to even let go.

“You're safe,” Steve whispers. Both a reassurance for his heart and a question.

“You’re safe,” Tony replies. A confirmation. He turns and presses his face against Steve’s warm and scratchy cheek.

They don't let go until their breathing has long steadied and their eyes have dried, but when they do, their hearts have once again synced to beat the same fervent rhythm. The sound of armies marching on.

**Author's Note:**

> short, sweet, and tooth rottingly fluffy. the russo brothers didn't give us the stony reunion we deserved in infinity war, so I did. hope you enjoyed xx


End file.
